>Good Morning!

Mornings are rough. Like Greta Garbo, I want to be left alone, but my kids just can’t seem to grasp that concept. What is with them?

With that in mind, you can imagine that the AM hours are my own personal hell, particularly since Bruiser is under the extremely misguided impression that each day must start at precisely 6:30. His sister likes to sleep in, but her squawking brother makes that all but impossible. By the time I manage to put something on and stumble to their room, they’re both up, bouncing around merrily in their respective beds, ready for action.

Me? I’m ready for inaction. I make my first cup of coffee and nurse it moodily. If I’m lucky, Bruiser will play with his toys for a while and Punky will watch the Disney Channel. More often, though, Bruiser makes his way up onto the sofa in order to make the first of many, many attempts to pry open my mouth with his superhumanly powerful baby fingers. When that doesn’t work, he turns his attention to digging my eyeballs out of their sockets. Could a morning get any better?! I think not! I squeeze my eyes and mouth shut like a mummy and wait until Brusier is done exploring my face. Telling him no would only result in screeching, something I’m not prepared to handle right now.

“Hold me,” Punky says dully in front of me, over and over again. It’s her morning mantra. Grudgingly, I let her climb into my lap. Snuggling is something I generally enjoy, since in not too many years, Punky will choose eating a bowl of sawdust over any physical contact with her mother whatsoever. At 6:30 in the morning, though, the last thing I want to do is get up close and personal with anyone, including my own spawn. Particularly while my other one is busy trying to poke out my eyeballs.

Still, I relent. They are my pride and joy, after all. I can’t exactly turn down their requests to snuggle without looking like The Worst Mommy in the World, and I certainly don’t want to provoke screaming (Bruiser’s specialty) or whining (Punky’s forte). So I sit, unsmiling, with two children sprawled all over me, and I wonder quietly to myself: WHEN IS THE FREAKING DAMNED COFFEE GOING TO KICK IN?

Ahem.

As I said, mornings are rough. Come to think of it, so are afternoons and evenings.

This post originally appeared on Parents.com.